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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384166">maps.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramenree/pseuds/instantramen'>instantramen (ramenree)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Past Character Death, jeno is a ray of sunshine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:07:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramenree/pseuds/instantramen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaemin needs to find his way out of the past. Jeno is a thousand miles away from home. Their maps are each other, and it works.</p><p>	or </p><p>Jaemin meets the cute, new transfer student while still nursing a broken heart. Thing is, he swears he’s heard his voice before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>maps.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229633">maps.</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mifan/pseuds/mifan">mifan</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi! this is an nct rewrite of an ipd fic (with permission ofc)!</p><p>small warning: i tried to keep the ages generally consistent with real life, but they're still not completely accurate, so don't be mad if you see some characters the same age as each other when they aren't irl </p><p>i hope you enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eight-thirty lectures do not agree with Jaemin. </p><p> </p><p>Most of the keeners in the class take their seats in a wide arc around him, reluctant to be seen near such a notorious slacker. <em> As if it would help them </em>, he thinks, scanning the room blearily through half-lidded eyes. At the end of the day, he’ll probably walk out of this class with a passing grade all the same. </p><p> </p><p>He bunches his sweater up into a pile, arranges it on the little writing desk connected to his seat, buries his face in it, and dozes off.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” A voice punctures his oblivion. Jaemin lifts his head out of his makeshift pillow and turns to the left to see an unfamiliar kid grinning awkwardly from the seat next to him. He glances around quickly. <em> No wonder. </em> The lecture hall is essentially full. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I missed the first few days of term because of some family things,” the boy explains. Jaemin blinks double. The kid’s <em> face </em> , with a bright smile that makes his eyes curve into crescents, might be unfamiliar, but he would recognize that <em> voice </em> anywhere. Hell, it took him to school on his first day. “I was wondering if I could borrow some notes-” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re the voice of my GPS,” Jaemin blurts out, effectively cutting him off. </p><p> </p><p>The boy looks at him, eyes widening, before mouthing something that looks like <em> fuck </em>. “I think you’re mistaken,” he says quickly. “I’ve heard that before.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Really.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” The kid nods earnestly. “See, I have a pretty deep voice. A lot of people say that I talk in a really distinct way too…” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin snorts. <em> Well, that’s bullshit. </em> “Alright, that’s enough. You don’t have to explain. I won’t be telling anyone.” </p><p> </p><p>“Look,” the boy protests, “there’s nothing to tell! I’m really not-” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin holds up a hand. “Like I said, your secret’s safe with me. Not that I see why it’s such a big deal.” </p><p> </p><p>The boy runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “You promise?” he finally acquiesces. </p><p> </p><p>“Promise,” Jaemin drawls. “I’ll even link pinkies with you, if that’s what you want.” </p><p> </p><p>The kid looks as if he’s seriously considering before extending a hand. “I’m Jeno.” </p><p> </p><p>“Jaemin.” He takes the hand and shakes it twice. “Now, explain to me what a freshman is doing in a second-year course?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m a second year,” Jeno clarifies. “I transferred over here this semester.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin looks the guy up and down. He’s tall, but by his face he looks like he could still be in high school. “You can’t be older than seventeen.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m nineteen.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, that's one thing we have in common. Except I'm not voicing for a GPS system.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno’s eyes dart around nervously. “For the last time, can we drop it about the GPS?” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When no one else approaches him that day, he takes it to mean that no one overheard their conversation, and that Jaemin kept his word. Jeno leaves campus on the nine as soon as his last class of the day is over. </p><p> </p><p>His phone pings once, twice, three times as he gets off the bus a short distance away from where he is staying. He opens the KaKaoTalk notification as he walks—<em> Hey Map Boy, you asked for notes.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno spots two attachments below, hastily mobile-scanned pages of… the course outline. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Does this guy seriously not have any notes? After a week of lectures?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He should’ve known. The guy probably slept through every class. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno sighs and types, <em> Please don’t call me Map Boy. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” Mark adds the extra weights, as he requested, carefully. “Never seen you lift this much before.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin grips the metal bar tightly. “That’s ‘cause I haven’t. Something wrong with trying?” </p><p> </p><p>“No.” Mark hums. “You’ve seemed… on edge. Just wondering if everything’s alright.” </p><p> </p><p>“Everything’s fine.” </p><p> </p><p>“Renjun?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Jaemin lifts the weights off their stand and lowers the bar to his chest, pushes. It <em> is </em> too heavy. Mark quickly swoops in, diligent spotter that he is, and helps him rest the weights back on the stand. “I miss him, Mark.”</p><p> </p><p>“We all do,” Mark says, “but you have to move on.” </p><p> </p><p>“Easier said than done.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin takes the extra weights off and slips back under the bar. He resumes his lifting as Mark looks on. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, let’s talk about something else,” he says abruptly. “There’s a cute new transfer in my econ class.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He exhales loudly as he pushes the bar up. “Sounds like my GPS.” </p><p> </p><p>“Like your GPS?” Mark repeats, jokingly. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin almost laughs. “Exactly like my GPS.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, tell me a little bit more about him,” Mark says. “You interested?” </p><p> </p><p><em> Not so soon after Renjun </em>, Jaemin thinks, but doesn’t say it. “Nah. He was the first person to sit next to me in a while, that’s all.” </p><p> </p><p>Mark chuckles. “Well maybe you can make this one stay. Provided he doesn’t expect you to take notes.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he asked me for notes,” Jaemin says wryly. “If he still sits with me tomorrow, he’s a keeper.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeno arrives to class the following morning to find that, like the day before, Jaemin is sleeping, his face buried into a sweater. He slips into the seat next to him quietly and gets set up for lecture. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin raises his head groggily, running a hand through his hair. Jeno notices that it’s dyed a light shade of brown. “Morning.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning,” Jeno replies. He pries one cup out of his drink tray and sets it on Jaemin’s desk. “Wasn’t sure how you like your coffee but thought you could use one.”</p><p> </p><p>The corners of Jaemin’s lips lift slightly. “Aw. You didn’t need to.” He raises the cup to his lips, takes a sip. “A little sweet compared to what I usually drink, but it’s good.” </p><p> </p><p>“What do you usually get?”</p><p> </p><p>“Black, with eight shots of espresso.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeno’s face contorts in horror, making Jaemin smile wider. “I don’t know why you’d drink that, but noted.” Jeno leans back in his seat. “Could I ask you about the notes you sent me yesterday?” </p><p> </p><p>“Let me guess, they weren’t notes,” Jaemin says dryly. “Sorry, buddy, but in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really take notes.” </p><p> </p><p><em> Why do you even come to class? </em> Jeno wants to ask, but decides against making enemies on his second day. “It’s okay, I’ll ask someone else.” </p><p> </p><p>He begins to stand, but Jaemin holds up a hand. “I can help you out, either way. I might not take notes or stay awake for class, but I promise, I know what I’m doing.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno is skeptical, but there is really no good way to say no to that, so he sits back down. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, lecture will start soon and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss this,” Jaemin tells him. “How about we meet after your last class at the campus library?” </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Jeno says slowly. “My last class ends at 3:30 today.” </p><p> </p><p>“Perfect, because mine ends at three.” Jaemin reaches across the space in between them and claps him on the shoulder. “See you then.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeno shows up. It surprises Jaemin, just a little bit, because normally kids like Jeno are not his crowd. They don’t seem to like him much, and it’s easy to see why. Bare minimum attendance, sleeping through half the classes he actually attends, <em> no notes </em>—it was a recipe to keep people like Jeno away.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Jaemin greets him with a wave and pulls out a chair at the table for him to sit down. Jeno does. “How was your day?” </p><p> </p><p>The question seems to take the kid aback, for whatever reason. “Okay,” Jeno says, after a pause. “What about you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Chipper.” Jaemin doesn’t look up from his textbook. “So, how can I help you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno pulls out his books. “I just wanted to catch up on what I missed.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it makes you feel better, you really didn’t miss all that much,” Jaemin saus, flipping a page. The annotations from the previous owner were very neat, and make it incredibly obvious who (him) had followed up in untidy scrawl. “The prof spent the first few days reviewing material from the prereq. If you remember things from last year, you’ll be fine.” </p><p> </p><p>“I think a little bit of review wouldn’t hurt,” says Jeno. There’s an awkward silence that Jaemin doesn’t attempt to address. “Say, are you interested in a study group?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin raises his eyebrows. He didn’t really do study <em> groups </em>, and isn’t about to start now, but something about the fact that Jeno asked makes him want to inquire further. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” he says. “You found one quick, Map Boy.” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me Map Boy,” Jeno grumbles, “but there were some upper years that started one. Maybe they’re looking for freshmen and sophomores to mentor, I don’t know. My roommate is one of the people who started it, though, and he’s wondering if people are interested.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin’s mouth twists. Mark is a part of several study groups, and so is Donghyuck; hell, this might even have to do with one of them. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “Who’s in it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Like I said, my roommate, Jaehyun,” Jeno says. “My other roommates are going to join, too. And I’m guessing Jaehyun’s friends.” </p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a crowd,” Jaemin muses. Jaehyun, third year, does something or other with the SU, probably, given that Jaemin recognizes the name. “Like I said, I’ll give it some thought. Now, you were talking about review?” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeno returns to the home he shares with three other people to find Jaehyun stretched out languidly on the couch with <em> Candide </em> in one hand and a cup of coffee in another. Sunlight makes his dyed brown hair look like molten gold. Taeyong is leaning into his shoulder and poring over stacks of sheet music, occasionally humming to himself. Somehow, with Seulgi and Joohyun gone from the apartment, Jeno feels as if he’s walked in on something very intimate. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Taeyong chirps his name and waves him over with a warm smile on his face. With his pretty face and large doe-like eyes, it’s extremely endearing.  </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong has always had a knack for making people feel comfortable; perhaps that’s why Jaehyun likes him so much, enough that Jeno on his first night living here witnessed Jaehyun rush out at midnight because he’d heard that Taeyong had gotten stuck on the road after his bus broke down. </p><p> </p><p>“How has your day been?” he asks him, putting down his papers. Jaehyun does the same, closing his book and setting his mug down on the low coffee table. “Catching up alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Guy in my econ class is helping me with that, and I haven’t had much trouble with anything else.” He turns to Jaehyun. “I invited him to your study group. You’re still looking for more people?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun raises his eyebrows incredulously. It’s an incredibly attractive gesture, what with Jaehyun’s perfect proportions, but Jeno tries not to focus too much on that. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeno, you know I’m an English major, right?” he says. “And this guy in your econ class studies…?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno freezes. He has no idea what Jaemin majors in, but if he’s in a second year economics class, Jeno has a sneaking suspicion it isn’t English. </p><p> </p><p>To his relief, Jaehyun just laughs. “It’s no big deal if he still wants to come,” he says, “but just tell him to be prepared to read some classics.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno pulls out his cell phone and finds Jaemin’s contact in KaKaoTalk. <em> Sorry. My roommate is an English major. Not sure if you’re still interested in the study group. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Say, Jeno,” Jaehyun is saying now, “you were telling me you’re having some trouble making ends meet?” </p><p> </p><p>“What with my grandma’s medical bills, yeah,” he agrees, and adds quickly, “You’ve already done so much for me, so-” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was wondering if you wanted a job, is all.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno’s eyes light up. “A job?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” says Jaehyun. “Girl at my cafe just quit. Said something about moving. So now they’re hiring, but they’re taking referrals first. Since I’ve worked there for a few years now, the owner asked me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jaehyun, are you sure?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun smiles, deep dimples showing. “Yeah, you in?” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> Sure. I like books. </em> </p><p> </p><p>As soon as Jaemin sends the text, he wonders what’s wrong with him. Evidently, Donghyuck thinks the same, because he leans over his shoulder and scoffs. </p><p> </p><p>“You into him?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin shakes his head. “A funny kid, is all.” </p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck walks around him and sits down on the floor beside Mark, who’s cross-legged with his guitar in his lap. “You sure about that? An English study group? In case you’ve forgotten, you study civil eng.” He raises an eyebrow. “Or is it Jaehyun you’re going for? He’s hot, but sorry to burst your bubble—the guy’s taken.” </p><p> </p><p>“For the last time, I am <em> not </em>.” Jaemin pulls the guitar out of Mark’s grasp and makes an exasperated noise on it. “I just need something to do.” </p><p> </p><p>He strums the guitar a few times as if it helps him prove his point. Donghyuck only squints at him before taking the instrument back and pushing it back into Mark’s arms. </p><p> </p><p>“If you really need something to do, we should go down to the studio,” Mark says, standing. He starts packing the guitar into its case. “Songs don’t write themselves.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin chuckles and slips a hoodie over his head. “Okay. Let’s go.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The owner of the cafe, Kim Junmyeon, hires him on the spot. Jeno hears him, a handsome man who looks hardly any older than they do, say to Jaehyun, aside, “This kid seems like he’d be great at getting people to like him.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun laughs. “Trust me, he is.” He turns to Jeno. “You can probably fill in your paperwork tonight. But if you’re not busy now, I can give you a bit of an orientation.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeno checks his watch. He doesn’t have class until one today, and it’s only ten. “Sounds good to me.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun walks behind the counter and beckons for Jeno to follow him into a back room. There are aprons hanging on a row of hooks on the wall, and Jaehyun grabs one and puts it on in one fluid motion. In a white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and a black apron, Jaehyun looks as if he’s just walked out of a romance movie. <em> There must be people who come here just for him </em>, Jeno speculates, and judging by the looks they get when they walk back out, he isn’t wrong. </p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever made a coffee before, Jeno?” Jaehyun asks him. Jeno shakes his head. “Okay, you can make one right now.” </p><p> </p><p>“He needs to wear an apron,” comes another voice. The young man at the cash register turns to them in admonishment, but his stern expression melts away quickly into a welcoming smile. “Hey. I’m Doyoung. I’ve worked here longer than Jaehyun so I know better.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m Jeno,” he says politely. “It’s nice to meet you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Likewise.” Doyoung shakes his hand and reveals a gummy smile that reminds him somewhat of a bunny. “But put on an apron. Then I’ll let you make Kun’s order.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I get the GPS boy,” says a kid standing at the counter. Jeno thinks he’s met him once before, at Jaehyun’s apartment—shorter, with a handsome face, clear skin, and tall nose, too. “It’s okay, I won’t blame you if you mess up.” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call him GPS boy,” Jaehyun says, on Jeno’s behalf. “It makes him uncomfortable.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno just grins sheepishly and takes the apron Doyoung hands over, grateful that Kun doesn’t ask.</p><p> </p><p>As Jaehyun shows him how to operate the coffee maker, others, both his new coworkers and regular customers, introduce themselves casually. Aside from Doyoung and Jaehyun, he is also working with a girl named Wendy. Among the regulars who are good friends with the employees, there are Kun, Taeil, and Guanheng, although Jaehyun and Doyoung tell him that there are a few more that they want him to meet eventually. </p><p> </p><p>At eleven, Taeyong walks into the store and comes straight around the counter for Jaehyun, wrapping his arms around Jaehyun’s waist from behind, and not a single person in the establishment bats an eye.</p><p> </p><p><em> It’s like they all know one another </em> , Jeno thinks. <em> They’re like family. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>LEE JENO</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Yesterday at 4:56 PM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Jeno. </b> <em> Sorry. My roommate is an English major.  </em></p><p><b>Jeno. </b> <em> Not sure if you’re still interested in the study group. </em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em>Sure,</em> <em> I like books.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 12:23 PM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Jeno.</b> <em>OK, they meet on </em><em>Friday</em><em>s at the library, on the second floor. </em></p><p><b>Jeno. </b> <em> That would be </em> <em> today </em> <em> , I guess.  </em></p><p><b>Jeno. </b> <em> At 7. Can you make it?  </em></p><p> </p><p><b></b> <strong>Me.</strong> <em> Yup, see you then. </em></p><p> </p><p>Jaemin looks through the text messages as he waits. God, why do they text like they’re writing emails to each other? </p><p> </p><p>He is sitting at one of the empty tables on the second floor of the library, as directed. He has a good view of the stairs so he’d see Jeno approach when he arrives with his roommate. It’s only 6:45. </p><p> </p><p>Five minutes later he sees a familiar head of dark brown hair rise over the edge of the stairs, followed by a radiant smile that both inexplicably lifts Jaemin’s spirits and puzzles him. What is there to be so happy about? </p><p> </p><p>Jeno is with three others: an exceedingly handsome young man with light brown hair and deep dimples, a shorter boy with light pink curls and beautiful, delicate features, and a guy with reddish-brown hair and a narrow face. When he spots Jaemin, he waves and quickly walks over. </p><p> </p><p>“You came,” he says, seeming almost surprised. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin shrugs. “It’s not like I have much else to do, anyway.” He doesn’t mention the party Lucas is throwing. With free drinks. </p><p> </p><p>“Fair.” Jeno offers him a hand up. “Here, let me introduce you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin takes the hand and stands, following Jeno to the group he arrived with. “This is my classmate, Jaemin,” he tells them. “Jaemin, this is Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Taeil.”</p><p> </p><p>He gestures to each of them in turn. Jaemin nods. “Nice to meet you guys.” </p><p> </p><p>“Likewise,” says the light-brown-haired one, Jaehyun. Donghyuck was right—he <em> is </em> hot. And judging by their proximity, the one by whom he’s <em> taken </em> is Taeyong. An unfairly beautiful pair, Jaemin thinks. “Anyway, we have a meeting room over there; we’re expecting a few more.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun leads them into the meeting room tucked away in a corner of the second floor. One wall is glass, and for some reason that makes Jaemin more uncomfortable than just sitting out in the open. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so, let’s get to know each other a bit while we wait for the others,” Jaehyun prompts, after they’re all seated around the table. “I’m Jaehyun, I’m in my third year of English.” </p><p> </p><p>He nudges the guy beside him. Taeyong gives everyone a wide smile. “I’m Taeyong, currently doing my MMus in Performance. If you’re wondering why I’m here, I just want to be.” </p><p> </p><p>So that’s why the name’s familiar; he’s in Donghyuck’s program. Jaemin must’ve heard his roommate bring him up at some point in time. </p><p> </p><p>“And I’m Taeil,” says the last guy. “I’m doing my MMus in music production.” </p><p> </p><p>“Jaemin, second year,” he follows their example. “Civil Engineering.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun nods and shoots Jeno a sidelong glance down the table. Something passes between them and Jaemin thinks it’s about him. “Civil Engineering,” he repeats. “You must really like reading, if you’re here.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” says Jaemin, utterly unconvincingly. It’s not that he dislikes reading, it really isn’t; there just always seems to be something else to do. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno introduces himself, too, despite being the only one Jaemin actually knew. “I’m Jeno. Second year, Finance.” </p><p> </p><p><em> Finance </em> . He had no idea. It doesn’t seem like Jeno at all, but on second thought, it makes sense. Jeno is such a stereotypical “good kid.” <em> Of course </em> he would study finance. </p><p> </p><p><em>You were a stereotypical “good kid,”</em> <em>too</em>, a voice reminds him. <em>You still are. So, who are you to judge?</em></p><p> </p><p>Someone knocks on the glass walls. A pale girl with monolid eyes and thick bangs stands slightly awkwardly outside, accompanied by a tall boy wearing a sweater that stretches over his broad chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, there’s Seulgi and Johnny,” says Taeyong, beaming. The two let themselves into the room and perform introductions quickly. Jaemin learns that Seulgi is a fourth-year, here on a dance scholarship. Johnny is fourth-year too, studying Finance like Jeno but here for an English study group because he misses speaking English like he did growing up. </p><p> </p><p><em> I’m pretty sure this isn’t how study groups work </em> , Jaemin thinks, but he doesn’t question it. After all, his roommate majors in Performance and tutors first-year Math students weekly. <em> Crazy shit happens here all the time.  </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>NA JAEMIN</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Yesterday at 10:09 PM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> How did you find the study group? </em></p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Sorry if it bored you </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 12:11 AM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>don’t worry, i liked it :) </em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> Oh, phew </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>but I hope you don’t mind if i skip next time</em></p><p><b>Jaemin. </b> <em> i’d rather my </em> <em> friday </em> <em> nights be free </em></p><p> </p><p><b></b> <strong>Me. </strong> <em> I’m sorry it’s at an inconvenient time </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em> don’t apologize </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>it’s not your fault lol </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>tell Jaehyun it was a good time though</em> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em> i’m just usually busy on </em> <em> Fridays </em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em>I’ll let him know! </em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno feels guilty anyway. So guilty, in fact, that he lies awake at nearly two in the morning wondering if it was wrong to invite Jaemin, if he could’ve done something to make him more comfortable, and why the hell he cares so much. Jaemin already told him that he thought it was fine—Jeno just <em> has </em> to doubt himself. </p><p> </p><p>He opens KaKaoTalk again and wonders if Jaemin’s seen the message yet. And if it’s weird to send him another one because he just can’t sleep. Whether it’s from his residual guilt or from the coffee he drank at six in the afternoon, he doesn’t know; he’s always been sensitive to caffeine. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>NA JAEMIN</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 1:45 AM  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> Hey </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin. </b> <em> hey  </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>what’s up?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em>Nothing much, can’t sleep haha</em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno almost recalls the message but stops when he sees that Jaemin’s typing. </p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin. </b> <em> it’s not that late yet </em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Not that late???? </em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em>It’s almost 2 </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin. </b> <em> oh right, you’re a good kid aren’t you </em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> ??? </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin. </b> <em> nvm </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>what’s on your mind</em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. There are a lot of things, and none of them really Jaemin’s business. But he was the one who reached out first, in a moment of impulse, and the damage has been done—he can lie or divulge. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> I don’t know, to be honest </em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> Just getting used to things, I guess </em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em>School and such</em></p><p> </p><p>It’s truthful enough, he decides. Jaemin can know this much about him if they’re going to be spending the rest of the semester sitting next to each other. </p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>oh, i get it</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>it can be hard to adjust</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>have you considered joining some clubs?</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>or going to some events? meeting some new people?</em></p><p> </p><p><b></b> <strong>Me. </strong> <em> Like what? </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>i’m part of a few clubs if you’re interested</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>they’re all music-related though if you’re into that</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Sure, tell me about them on </em> <em> Monday </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>sure thing</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>see you</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>get some sleep</em></p><p> </p><p>After some debate, Jeno scrolls through his sticker gallery and finds an animated rabbit captioned with “good night” and sends it to their conversation. He briefly wonders if it was a bad choice, until Jaemin texts back a snoring corgi and he finds the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in spite of himself. </p><p> </p><p>He sets his phone down on the nightstand and stares at the ceiling. He’s lucky, he decides, to have a room as nice as this one, and roommates as nice as Jaehyun and Joohyun and Seulgi. And if he thinks about it, he’s lucky to have someone like Jaemin. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After a little bit of convincing, Jaemin manages to get Jeno to one club—dance. There’s a studio on campus in the Performing Arts building given over to their use every Tuesday at 5:00 pm, and the two of them head there together after both their classes are finished for the afternoon. </p><p> </p><p>“So, how’d you get into dancing?” Jeno asks as they walk. The kid wears the same things almost every day, Jaemin notices: a grey hoodie with sweatpants, and occasionally glasses. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin should have seen the question coming but he trips up anyway, even though the answer is also constantly hovering in his mind. “I, um, just kind of did,” he says, then curses himself internally. “Actually, scratch that. A friend got me hooked.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno doesn’t question it. “What kind of dance is it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Urban and hip-hop, mostly,” Jaemin answers. “But we dabble in all sorts of things.” </p><p> </p><p>When they arrive, most members of the club are already present. Many of them are studying dance professionally, and befitting of that, they stretch out their limbs professionally in the corners and in front of the mirrors that line the walls of the studio. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been the latest for three meetings, Jaemin,” Ten hollers, from where he is tying his shoelaces. Ten is a third-year, like Jaehyun, studying theatre. He’d been tight with Renjun, too; that’s how they got somewhat close. “Food’s on you today.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m broke,” he grumbles, but he would fork over the money later anyway. The members of the club present, plus Mark (who dances with another club) and Donghyuck (who only dances with them when he’s not being lazy), had been his strongest support system in the year since Renjun’s passing, and in so many ways they still are. The least he could do is buy them snacks. </p><p> </p><p>“Who’s that with you?” asks Yangyang. “We’re getting lots of new members.” </p><p> </p><p>“This is Jeno,” Jaemin introduces him. “He’s a second-year, Finance.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I know you,” Kun pipes up, walking over. God, Jaemin admires him as a dancer. Their little association is loose and unorganized, but if anyone could be considered the leader, if anyone could keep them all together with Renjun’s absence, it’s Kun. “Jaehyun’s roommate. And you made me a coffee.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” says Jeno good-naturedly. “Was the coffee okay?” </p><p> </p><p>Kun laughs. “Good enough for your first try,” he says. “How’re you liking the job?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin looks at Jeno. “Where do you work?” </p><p> </p><p>“The Neocity Cafe,” Kun says proudly for him. “Now you have no excuse not to go there, Jaemin. I promise you, it’s better than whatever you’ve been drinking.” </p><p> </p><p>“Doubt it.” Jaemin grins. He makes eye contact with Jeno in the mirror wall and is reassured to find that he doesn’t seem nervous or bored or disappointed. “Shall we get practicing?” </p><p> </p><p>Kun claps his hands together. “That’s a good idea.” He hollers at the other members of the team, “Put on the music! We’re warming up together!” </p><p> </p><p>As a group, they chorus, “Yes, Teacher Kun!” Jaemin has Jeno copy the movements next to him as they run through warm-up exercises and pulls him to the side of the room to watch when the first group practices to a loud, energetic song (<em> Kick It, </em> is it?). </p><p> </p><p>“What do you think?” Jaemin asks Jeno. The outcome of this question seems more important than it should. “Liking it so far?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno nods. “Yeah. You’re all such good dancers.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin snorts. “Some of these kids are professionals. Me? Not so much.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never danced before,” says Jeno. “Are you sure this is the right place for me to learn?” </p><p> </p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Jaemin inclines his head. “This is the perfect place for you to learn. Kun’s a great teacher, you know. He teaches at a dance studio part-time.” </p><p> </p><p>Kun walks over, taking a swig of water. “That’s right. If you want to learn, we’d be more than glad to help you.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin grins. “So, what do you say? You’re in?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno’s silent for a moment before breaking into a radiant smile. “Yes, why not?” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Going to the library again?” Jaehyun asks Jeno as he heads for the door. He doesn’t look up from a document he’s typing in furiously at the kitchen table. For once, Taeyong isn’t with him, probably because they’d never get any work done if they’re together. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Jeno says. In the past couple months, he’s fallen into something of a routine, rotating between home, his classes, the cafe, the studio, and the library. Each of these places have become associated with different people—he sees Jaehyun, Seulgi, and Joohyun at home, Taeil and Doyoung at the cafe, Kun and Ten at the studio, and the library is reserved for Jaemin. </p><p> </p><p>They only share the one economics class, yet they find themselves meeting up to study more often than makes sense. They each do their own thing, but it makes it more fun to do it together, he guesses.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, get me a coffee on the way back, will you?” Jaehyun leans back from his computer and fishes a five dollar bill out of his wallet. “A large half-mocha.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be so late,” says Jeno incredulously. “You sure you want coffee at ten?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun snorts. “You baby. I need to finish this paper tonight, and you want me to do it without coffee? Just take my money and go.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno sighs. “It’s okay, I’ll get one for you.” </p><p> </p><p>He leaves the apartment to the sound of Jaehyun’s laughs. </p><p> </p><p>At the library, Jaemin is already there, as he tends to be. The boy in question is bent over a huge textbook with headphones in and eyebrows knit, taking notes intensely </p><p> </p><p>Jeno sits down across from him. “Maybe if you didn’t sleep in class.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin looks up at him and takes out his headphones, lips parting in a languid smile. “Lectures don’t work for everyone, Map Boy.” </p><p> </p><p>The nickname still appears from time to time, and Jeno’s given up on policing it. No one has really approached him about it, so he’s happy to let it rest in the past and to let Jaemin poke fun at it once in a while. </p><p> </p><p>They study in silence for a time, just two people in a sea of students who, one like the other, are furiously working for a degree they aren’t sure they want or a career they don’t think they’d like. Finance would never have been Jeno’s first choice but sometimes there isn’t really a choice. And even if he had a choice, or if he could choose again now—</p><p> </p><p>He wouldn’t know. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin sets down his pen and locks both hands together, reaching over his head in a stretch. “God. I’m so done.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno finishes his sentence and does the same. “Take a break?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Jaemin fishes around in his bag and pulls out a couple of granola bars, hands one to Jeno, who takes it, practiced. “Hey, wanna go to a party tomorrow?” </p><p> </p><p>“A party?” Jeno repeats. He’s never been to a party before, and tomorrow is Friday. Jaehyun’s study group. “What kind of party?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware that there are more kinds of parties,” he says. Then, he grins. “You’ve never been to one before, have you?” </p><p> </p><p>Inexplicably, Jeno could feel heat creep up his neck. “No,” he admits. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin just laughs. “Typical. But what do you say? Wanna go to one?” </p><p> </p><p>“Who’s going to be there?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s hosted by Nakamoto Yuta,” says Jaemin. “He’s an exchange student, I think. From Japan. You can also expect Kun to be there, probably Kim Jungwoo, too? Oh, and Ten will definitely be there, probably with his boyfriend—” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno cuts him off with the most important question: “Will there be drinks?” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course there’ll be drinks.” Jaemin takes one look at him and laughs again. “Oh, come on. You’re legal.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno wonders if he should tell Jaemin that he’s never drank before, at the risk of seeming extremely uncool. But judging by his smug expression, Jaemin already knows that.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, it’ll be fun,” he says reassuringly. “You’ve gotta experience a party sooner or later, regardless of what kind of student you are. And if you’re worried about skipping out on Jaehyun, just let him know you’re going to a party. He’ll get it.” </p><p> </p><p>That’s the least of Jeno’s worries, but he nods along. Jaemin seems to take this for an agreement and whips out his phone. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let Yuta know I’m bringing you,” he says. “Don’t worry, he’ll look after you really well if I tell him it’s your first. Him and Winwin.” </p><p> </p><p>“Winwin?” Jeno is so full of questions he doesn’t even know where to begin. </p><p> </p><p>“Dong Sicheng,” replies Jaemin, texting. “He’s Yuta’s boyfriend. Word is they’re gonna get engaged soon.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno files the gossip away and looks across the table at Jaemin, who wears the ghost of a smile on his face as he types away. <em> A party, huh? </em> He wonders what his mother would think of that; probably not highly. But he’s worked and studied hard these past three months. Plus, they just got past midterms not too long ago—he deserves to celebrate, doesn’t he? </p><p> </p><p>He leans in, bracing his elbows on the table, and asks, “So, how are we getting there?” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jaemin pulls up to the address Jeno had texted him. It’s a fairly new building, and judging by its design and location, it must be pricey to live here—Jeno’s parents must either be well-to-do or he’s the recipient of a <em> very </em> handsome scholarship that he’s never mentioned. Jeno’s smart, though, so Jaemin wouldn’t put it past him.</p><p> </p><p><em> Here, </em> Jaemin texts. A moment later, KaKaoTalk <em> ping </em> s with Jeno’s reply: <em> Coming! </em> Jaemin leans back in his seat with arms crossed, expectant. </p><p> </p><p>A couple minutes pass and Jaemin’s getting impatient when the glass doors to the apartment complex swing wide open and out steps Jeno, in ripped blue jeans and a striped shirt, his hair seeming slightly more styled than usual. Jaemin doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Jeno is tugging at the handle on the door.</p><p> </p><p>Jeno slides into shotgun, grinning nervously. “Hi.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” says Jaemin, smiling back. “Did Jaehyun dress you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno pouts. “I have nice clothes, too, you know.” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t.” Jaemin puts his phone up on its stand with the GPS app open and hits <em> Start </em>. “You never wear them. How should I?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno opens his mouth to protest at the same time his voice echoes through the speakers of Jaemin’s car. <em> “Starting route to 112 10 11th Avenue.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God, no.” Jeno buries his face in his hands, the tips of his ears bright red. “Did you have to?” </p><p> </p><p>“No, I know where Yuta lives,” Jaemin says smugly. “Just teasing you.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno glares at him. “Turn it off.” </p><p> </p><p>“No.” Jaemin sticks out his tongue and pulls the clutch into drive. “I think it’s cute.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno turns redder, if possible, as the GPS gives out another round of instructions in his voice. Having enough, he snatches Jaemin’s phone off the stand and ends the navigation as Jaemin laughs. </p><p> </p><p>They speed a little bit to Yuta’s house. Judging by the number of cars lining the street, the party has already started by the time they arrive. When Jaemin pulls his car into a tiny space between the new vehicle he recognizes as Kun’s and the beat-up car belonging to Ten, he suddenly feels as if he’s another person. </p><p> </p><p>In high school, Renjun had been the one to show Jaemin parties, with pulsing lights and drunken laughs and the press of bodies up against one another as they all watch one kid take as many shots as he can. Renjun had been the one to take Jaemin to parties he would never have been invited to, to show him off to his friends, the older, cooler crowd. </p><p> </p><p>In a strange, dreamlike way, Jaemin has become Renjun as he walks up the driveway with Jeno tailing him closely, eager and apprehensive all at the same time. The only difference is that he and Jeno are not so young and crazy and in love, and <em> God </em>, he almost freezes in his tracks when he thinks that neither he nor Jeno are dead. </p><p> </p><p>The front door is unlocked and when they walk in Jaemin is almost immediately greeted by a giggly Ten with a giddy Johnny Seo in tow. They aren’t drunk yet but judging by the beer cans in their hands they intend to be. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you brought Jeno,” Ten observes, giving the boy in question a lopsided grin. “Welcome.” </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” Jeno says nervously. He looks to Jaemin. “What do we do?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin takes off his shoes and forces a smile he thinks is reassuring. “Well, we go inside.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeno is sitting at a table and Jaemin is beside him. He knows that much. Somewhere, people are yelling and laughing and cussing and bouncing ping pong balls into red plastic cups and he thinks that at some point tonight, he’s done it, too. It was fun but not as fun as sitting. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know how long it’s been by the time Jaemin slips out of his chair and falls to the floor. Jeno makes a fumbling attempt at catching him and misses completely. </p><p> </p><p>“Geez, you guys are sloshed, aren’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno hears a new voice behind him. He turns around, and through bleary eyes he spots a young man dressed in a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, moving through the haze towards them. He looks familiar, or at least comforting—his hair is swept away from his forehead and the smile on his face is gentle, if slightly exasperated. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t drink that much,” he mumbles, but the words are like sludge in his mouth. He doesn’t know why, but he asks, “Did you?” </p><p> </p><p>The man’s mouth takes a wry twist. “I don’t really drink,” he says simply. “But you must be a heavyweight, to drink Jaemin under the table like that.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno follows his line of sight to Jaemin, who is lying on the carpet on his side, eyes shut and mouth slightly ajar. “I didn’t drink that much,” Jeno repeats. He really didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, bro.” The young man takes a knee and pulls one of Jaemin’s arms over his shoulders easily. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Mark.” He extends his free hand. “I’m Jaemin’s friend.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno shakes it but his grip is weak. “I’m Jeno,” he says. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Mark replies, chuckling. <em> You have? </em> Jeno normally would have asked, but he doesn’t. He’s too fucking drunk for this. “Anyway, wanna get out of here?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno nods so vigorously it makes him dizzy. Stumbling the entire way, he follows Mark out of the house eagerly and across the street to a black sedan. “What about Jaemin’s car?” Jeno thinks to ask. </p><p> </p><p>“He and I can come get it later,” Mark says casually. “Yuta won’t mind.” </p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Jeno climbs into the back of the car as Mark painstakingly straps a completely unaware Jaemin into a seatbelt. <em> How did things come to this? </em> Jeno wonders. His mother would be so disappointed if she finds out at his first party his one friend got passed out drunk and he got into a stranger’s car… </p><p> </p><p>“Yo, where do you live?” Mark asks. “I’ll give you a ride home first.” </p><p> </p><p>His head blanks. What the fuck is his address? Mark gets into the driver’s seat and waits, blessedly patient. </p><p> </p><p>“I live with Jaehyun,” Jeno blurts out. <em> Goddamn, that’s not an address. And it’s not like everyone knows where Jaehyun lives </em>. “Wait, I mean-” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so <em> you’re </em> Jaehyun’s new roommate.” In the rearview mirror, Jeno can see Mark raise his eyebrows. “Okay, sounds good.” </p><p> </p><p>“You know him?” Jeno asks. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Mark says, starting up the car, “we’re bros.” </p><p> </p><p>When Mark doesn’t make conversation, Jeno stays silent for the duration of the trip, slipping in and out of sleep. Jaemin topples over from the upright position Mark put him in and after the third time Jeno gives up on straightening him and just lets him lean on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>A few times Jeno thinks he hears Jaemin say his name. But maybe it was the other name. Renjun. Or both. He has no idea.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re here,” Mark’s soft voice pulls him from the cusp of slumber. “Need some help getting off?” </p><p> </p><p>“I think I’ll be okay,” Jeno says, but in his head he doubts himself. Before he can open the door, though, another person does it for him and he almost falls out of the car. </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t take you for a heavy drinker.” Jeno looks up from Jaehyun’s feet to his face; Jaehyun is smiling slightly as if he finds his stupidity somehow endearing. “Thanks, Mark.” </p><p> </p><p>“Not a problem,” says Mark. “I better get going. Have another idiot to drive home.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not an idiot,” Jeno protests, but it’s not convincing at all when he needs Jaehyun’s support to stay upright. “But thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>“No worries.” Mark rolls up his window and drives away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donghyuck’s cooking is terrible. But Jaemin endures it because, honestly, Donghyuck deserves it for putting up with such a fuck-up—the fuck-up being him. </p><p> </p><p>“So, wanna tell me why you were so fucking drunk last night?” Donghyuck prompts from the other side of the table, never one to beat around the bush. “You know, I wonder how Mark and I put up with you.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin pokes at slightly scorched eggs miserably. His head hurts, he’s thrown up once, and the last thing he wants right now is eggs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Or, you know just as well as I do.” </p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck is quiet for a moment, as if contemplating his next words carefully. Jaemin braces himself, because he knows that whenever Donghyuck does this, he’s preparing a hard truth. And he’s right. “This new kid, Jeno—he reminds you of Renjun, doesn’t he?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Jaemin admits, and the honesty pains him. </p><p> </p><p>“So…” </p><p> </p><p>“So I took him to Yuta’s party, and it just reminded me so much of the time Renjun first took me to a party,” Jaemin manages to get out. “Then all I wanted to do was forget about that and, you know, I went <em> fuck it, the booze is free anyway </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck hums. “Well, how did Jeno like it?” </p><p> </p><p>That’s what Jaemin wants to know, too; he’d sent a message to Jeno over KaKaoTalk earlier but he hasn’t received a response yet. Judging by the number of shots Jaemin saw him take last night, though, he’s probably just as hungover as he is, if not more, since it was his first party. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” says Jaemin, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “All I know is that I shouldn’t have gotten wasted and left him to fend for himself.” </p><p> </p><p>“True, but don’t be so hard on yourself.” Donghyuck stands up and collects his plate when he notices Jaemin hasn’t actually touched the food. “Nothing would’ve happened to him, anyway; it was Yuta’s party, wasn’t it? He would never let anything bad happen under his watch, drunk off his ass or not.” </p><p> </p><p>The words are true enough, but Jaemin doesn’t feel reassured. In the few months since they’ve met, Jaemin has felt a strange, foreign connection to Jeno that he isn’t ready to categorize. Neither is he ready to lose it. </p><p> </p><p>Renjun and Jeno are polar opposites of one another, yet they share a sort of magnetism that scares Jaemin with its potency. </p><p> </p><p>Renjun had always been the centre of attention: bold, mesmerizing, sociable. He was also humorous, helpful, generous. Everyone liked him for it, and Jaemin most of all. He loved basking in the excitement of his presence, which somehow never died away despite Jaemin seeing him nearly every single day. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno, well, Jeno is unobtrusive. That’s the best word for it, Jaemin thinks—he draws as little attention to himself as possible and never tries hard to please. Yet, there is something undeniably charming about his unassuming demeanor that Jaemin has fallen prey to. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>LEE MARK</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Today at 9:17 AM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Mark.</b> <em>hey bro just so you know i also drove Jeno home</em></p><p><b>Mark. </b> <em> so there’s no need to worry </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 2:02 PM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em>thanks</em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> do you have some time to go get my car with me? </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Mark.</b> <em>sure </em></p><p><b>Mark.</b> <em>i’ll come get you when work ends</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> see you in an hour? </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Mark.</b> <em>yup</em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> Did you get home okay? </em>Looking at the words gives Jeno a headache. Then again, most things do, at present. He curls up more tightly on the sofa and squeezes his eyes shut against the bright afternoon sunlight streaming in through the open blinds, feeling much too sluggish to get up and close them. </p><p> </p><p><em> Yes </em>, he texts back, and puts his phone down on the low coffee table. A second later he hears it vibrate but he doesn’t pick it up. Why should he? The guy took him to a party, got hopelessly drunk, and left Jeno to get home in the back of a stranger’s sedan. What happened to making sure nothing went wrong? </p><p> </p><p>A part of him thinks that he should be more lenient towards Jaemin. Whatever prompted him to keep knocking back the shots yesterday is bothering him. </p><p> </p><p><em> And why should that matter to you? </em> asks a voice in his head. <em> Because you’re friends with him </em>, replies another. Jeno doesn’t know how long he just stays there on the couch, sunken into the cushions, thinking. Thinking through his splitting headache about what he remembers of the party, about the drinks, about Jaemin, about Jaemin, about Jaemin. </p><p> </p><p>About how Jaemin looked in the dim lighting, his face flushed with alcohol and full lips parted in a smile. About how Jaemin talked after a few drinks too many, too fast and too quiet. About how delicate his name—Jeno’s name—sounded on Jaemin’s tongue when he whispered it in the quiet of Mark’s car. And about—</p><p> </p><p>The other name. <em> Renjun </em>. Jaemin has never mentioned anyone named Renjun before, and neither has Jeno ever met anyone with that name. Who is Renjun? What’s his full name? What’s his relationship to Jaemin? A classmate? A friend? A lover? </p><p> </p><p>Jeno shakes his head violently. It’s none of his business. </p><p> </p><p>His phone vibrates again. This time, Jeno reaches out and picks it up, ignoring the throbbing in his temples to read the messages. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>NA JAEMIN</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Today at 1:20 PM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>Did you get home okay?</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Today at 2:35 PM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Yes </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>oh good </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>i’m sorry for what happened</em></p><p> </p><p><em> Sorry doesn’t cut it </em>, Jeno wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to blame Jaemin, not really. It’s as much Jeno’s fault as it’s Jaemin’s, if not more. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> It’s all good </em></p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Don’t worry too much about it. </em></p><p> </p><p>He wants to add, to ask him, <em> Who’s Renjun? </em> but he deletes the words immediately after he types them and waits for Jaemin to respond instead. </p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>ok, i’m going to get my car in a bit</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>do you want me to stop by?</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>i’m really sorry </em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Up to you. </em></p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> But it’s really OK </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>ok, i’ll be over at around 4 </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>want me to bring anything?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Bring what? </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>idk, something to eat?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Maybe a milk tea </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>milk tea, got it</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>any specific instructions?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> No, anything’s fine. </em></p><p> </p><p>With some difficulty, Jeno sits upright and heads to Jaehyun’s room, knocking on the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Come in,” comes Jaehyun’s voice. Jeno opens the door. “Hey, what’s up? Feeling better?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Jeno lies. “Is it okay if Jaemin comes over in a bit, hyung?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun turns around in his swivelling chair, lips pursed. “You sure you want that?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno hesitates. He wants to say he’s sure but he isn’t. Jaehyun sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Sit down,” he says, pointing to the bed. “Why don’t we talk about it?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno does as he’s told and sits down on Jaehyun’s bed. Jaehyun turns his chair to face him, expression stern and concerned. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what to think,” Jeno says quietly. “On one hand, I’m not really mad about it, you know? On the other hand, it feels like things could’ve been so much worse and I don’t know if this is what I wanted my first party to be like.” He pauses. “Jaemin’s right, you know. I’ve always been the ‘good kid.’” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun smiles gently. “You’re still a good kid,” he says. “Yuta’s parties are tame as far as parties go. But that isn’t the important part, is it?” </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Jeno admits. He doesn’t know—no, he doesn’t <em> want </em> to know what the important part is but he forces himself to say it because Jaemin will show up on their doorstep in an hour and he needs to know what to do. “I don’t know how I feel about him, Jaehyun.” </p><p> </p><p>“Are you angry at him?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” says Jeno, almost reluctantly. “I thought I was, but it’s hard to be.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun chuckles. “I get it. I can never be mad at Taeyong, either.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno can feel himself redden. “That isn’t how it is.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Jeno,” Jaehyun says, mirth still in his voice and sounding infinitely wiser than him, despite being only a few years older. Is this what comes with being an English major? “You have plenty of time to figure it out. Worst comes to worst, you two don’t work things out. But you won’t have to see him anymore next semester.” </p><p> </p><p>The idea isn’t reassuring to Jeno at all, but Jaehyun’s voice is. “Okay. Thanks, Jaehyun-hyung.” </p><p> </p><p>“Not a problem.” Jaehyun gets up from his chair and walks over to where Jeno is sitting, ruffling his hair. Jeno hates how young it makes him feel but he doesn’t push Jaehyun away. The proximity is comforting. “Now, why don’t you wash up a little before he gets here? And maybe change out of the clothes you wore yesterday.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jaemin jogs up the stairs nervously with a plastic bag containing two drinks from the cafe a block away, a milk tea with tapioca pearls for Jeno and one without for himself. Mark follows closely behind him, sipping one of his ridiculously healthy smoothies with protein or something. </p><p> </p><p>“This is the place?” he asks Mark when they reach the top floor and stop in front of a metal door adorned with the number <em> 21 </em>. Mark nods. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Knock.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin presses the doorbell with one finger and hears it chime inside the apartment. He swallows his apprehension and hopes Jeno is as forgiving in person as he is over text. </p><p> </p><p>The door opens. It’s Jaehyun, dressed in a blue denim jacket with a dark grey turtleneck underneath and deliberately messy light brown hair. Jaemin is momentarily stunned by the image before him until it breaks into a dimpled grin. </p><p> </p><p>“Great, I was just about to head out,” he says. “Ready to go, Mark?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Mark says. Jaemin looks between the two of them, bewildered. Had they made plans? “Where did Taeyong say to pick him up?”</p><p> </p><p>“The music building.” Jaehyun brushes past Jaemin and steps out the door. “See you later, Jeno!” he turns and calls, before ushering Jaemin into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What the fuck. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin takes off his shoes at the front door and takes a few tentative steps into the apartment. Judging by the different pairs of shoes on the rack by the wall, there are women living here, too—simple enough to arrange given the size of the place. The apartment Jeno shares with Jaehyun and an unspecified number of others is a loft, large and spacious and nicely furnished. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” comes a voice. A voice that Jaemin would recognize anywhere. Jeno emerges from the hall leading presumably to the bedrooms on the first level, dressed simply in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. A towel hangs around his neck and his dark hair is damp. “Sorry. I was drying my hair.” </p><p> </p><p>“No worries,” Jaemin says nonchalantly, taking a few more steps towards the kitchen area and setting the drinks down on the counter. “Wasn’t sure what you preferred so I got one with pearls and one without.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno pads over in slippers and reaches into the bag, extracting the cup of milk tea with pearls and a thick, blue plastic straw. “I’ll take this one. Thanks.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin watches, anxious, as Jeno expertly pierces the plastic film with the straw and takes a sip. <em> God, what am I so nervous about? </em> </p><p> </p><p>“It’s good, thanks,” Jeno says after he swallows, his lips lifting in a smile that both reassures Jaemin and sets his heart to pounding at the same time. “Here, take the other.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin moves mechanically, poking a yellow straw through his cup and drinking but not really tasting. He likes milk tea, but right now, he doesn’t really have the appetite for it</p><p> </p><p>“So,” he begins, “I’m really sorry about last night.” </p><p> </p><p>He got it out. The apology part is easy, he thinks—what’ll be hard is what Jeno has to say in return. </p><p> </p><p>Unsurprisingly, the younger goes silent for a while, stirring at the pearls in his cup with his straw. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, really,” he says quietly. “I just have a lot of things to sort out. And a lot of questions.” </p><p> </p><p>Emboldened by the lack of anger in Jeno’s response, Jaemin leans forward onto the countertop. “Like what, if you don’t mind me asking?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeno sighs through his nose. “You know, why don’t we sit down?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin lets Jeno lead him from the kitchen area and into the living room. They take seats on opposite sides of a glass coffee table, on low beige sofas that are so comfy it makes Jaemin a little jealous and a little resentful of the tiny apartment he shares with Donghyuck a few blocks from campus. </p><p> </p><p>“This is such a nice place,” he says honestly. “Who else lives here aside from you and Jaehyun?”</p><p> </p><p>“This is Joohyun’s place,” Jeno explains. Jaemin vaguely recognizes the same—she’s from another campus dance club, if he isn’t wrong. “Her parents own it and at first it was just her and Seulgi but they thought all the space is kind of a waste if they don’t rent it out, so Jaehyun and Xiaojun moved in. But then Xiaojun was transferring back to China, so he told me about it and I took his room.” </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t be cheap.” </p><p> </p><p>A shadow passes over Jeno’s face. “Well, Joohyun doesn’t ask me for much money,” he says. “They’re really nice about it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin hums. So that’s it—Jeno never struck him as from a wealthy family. In fact, sometimes, it feels like the opposite. The preference for the same few outfits, the way he talks about home, the long hours he works at the cafe and, if Jaemin thinks about it, the voice pack. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s good,” he says, inadequately. “So, you said you had questions. Are they about the party?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno’s expression is hard to read, and when he opens his mouth it startles Jaemin some. “They’re about you, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me?” Jaemin asks. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno nods. “Yeah.” He looks at Jaemin, equal parts solemn and, for some reason, pleading. “I just wanted to know… why did you get so drunk last night? I know it isn’t just because you can’t hold your liquor well.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno knows something else, too, Jaemin realizes—he just isn’t saying it.</p><p> </p><p>He sighs. “Okay, tell me this first—what did I say last night?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno hesitates, then says, “You said ‘Renjun.’” </p><p> </p><p><em> Of fucking course </em>. Jaemin closes his eyes momentarily, feeling hot tears well up in them and determined not to let Jeno see them. When he opens them again, he blinks a few times to keep them at bay. Mark’s right, they’re all right—he needs to move on, and he knows it. It’s just easier said than done. </p><p> </p><p>Most days, he feels alright. It just sometimes hits him out of nowhere that Renjun is gone for good, not just on some extended vacation that he promises to tell Jaemin all about when he comes back. </p><p> </p><p>“Jaemin?” Jeno’s voice prompts softly. He’s worried, Jaemin realizes, and it sends a pang of guilt crashing through him. When is he going to stop worrying people? Mark and Donghyuck already have it hard enough—does he really need to involve Jeno, too? Sweet, innocent Jeno who deserves so much better than to be tangled up in an emotional mess like him? </p><p> </p><p>“Jaemin,” Jeno’s voice says again, this time more firmly. “Are you okay?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he says, drawing in a breath. “Sorry. I guess I should tell you.” He looks up at Jeno, who looks back with nothing but well-meaning. “Renjun and I were together. Up until a year ago.”</p><p> </p><p>It had been a foggy night and the driver saw neither Renjun in his little car nor the stop sign in the dark. The worst part wasn’t really the news but more the forty-eight hours waiting outside the ICU hoping for good news. </p><p> </p><p>“He died in a car accident.” </p><p> </p><p>He said it. He fucking said it and it’s the first time he’s said something like it since it happened. He never needed to say it before—everyone around him knew Renjun, too, so he never needed to explain anything to them. And maybe that’s why he never needed to face it like he does now. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jeno says quietly. His expression is pained and Jaemin understands—he understands how hard it is to say something adequate when someone else is suffering. He wasn’t the only one who felt Renjun’s loss and he’d tried to say the same things to Renjun’s grieving parents. They hadn’t taken it well. “Do you want a hug?” </p><p> </p><p>The question is slightly surprising but his answer surprises him more. “Yes,” he says. “Yeah, I do.” </p><p> </p><p>So Jeno gets up and skirts around the coffee table to sit down next to Jaemin. He opens his arms and Jaemin leans into them, feeling them fold around his shoulders and close tightly. </p><p> </p><p>Tightly enough that he feels like the loose pieces of him would finally stay together, if only for a little while. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Long after Jaemin’s departure, Jeno still sits on the couch where they’d shared that embrace, feeling a phantom warmth against his body and a prevailing numbness in his mind. That’s how Seulgi and Joohyun find him when they come back from the mall. Joohyun tries to ask him what’s wrong but he has no idea how to explain, so they give up and leave him there. A little while after that, Jaehyun comes home with the ghost of a smile on his face that falls when he sees him, but he doesn’t bother, either. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno’s okay with that. He needs some time to himself, just to think. </p><p> </p><p>After they hugged, they had just sat there until Jaemin decided it was time for him to go. <em> Thanks for that </em>, he’d told Jeno, and took his leave. Jeno didn’t try to stop him, despite having a dozen more questions to ask and something to say that he just can’t put into words properly. </p><p> </p><p>He knows how he feels about Jaemin, now. He knows how he feels but not what to do.</p><p> </p><p>He knows what he <em> wants </em>, too—but he doesn’t know if it’s right, or if he’ll regret wanting it. </p><p> </p><p>They don’t talk for the rest of the weekend. At eight-thirty on Monday morning, Jeno walks into class with two cups of coffee like he’s grown accustomed to doing, only to find that Jaemin isn’t there. His mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusion—<em> what if he’s avoiding me? </em>—and he taps his foot nervously for the rest of lecture and watches one cup of coffee get cold. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>NA JAEMIN</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Today at 9:32 AM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Hey, where were you today? </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 10:58 AM </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin. </b> <em> oh sorry </em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>should have let you know</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>i’m sick so i stayed home</em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno feels an unbidden rush of relief that <em> thank God, it isn’t me </em>. But then he feels guilty because he shouldn’t feel relieved that Jaemin’s sick. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Oh :( </em></p><p><strong>Me. </strong> <em> Do you want me to bring you notes? </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>nah, i wouldn’t want to get you sick too</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>and you know i don’t listen in lecture anyway haha</em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno had felt a brief rush of hope when he’d offered to bring notes, but that had been dashed immediately afterwards. He sets his phone down on the table, next the notes he had ready, feeling oddly dejected. Then his phone buzzes. </p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>wanna video call?</em></p><p> </p><p>He blinks and reads the text over again just in case he had imagined it the first time. The words remain the same. <em> Yes, </em> he wants to scream, and then he confuses himself all over again with how he feels. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Me. </strong><em>Maybe later?</em><br/>
<b>Me.</b> <em>I have another class in a bit and then work in the evening… </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>;(</em></p><p><b>Jaemin.</b> <em>it’s ok then, tty when you have time</em></p><p> </p><p>Jeno clicks his phone shut and slips it into his bag. There are so many things wrong with how he feels about Jaemin that it makes his head spin. He doesn’t want to think about it, not right now, when he has at least three papers due in the next few days and probably more work that slipped his mind between his hangover and the other events of the weekend. But he can’t help himself. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t help but to be drawn to Jaemin, the way he talks, so casually deliberate and with the tone of someone privy to your secrets despite having never told them. He is drawn to Jaemin’s actions, too—the gentle teasing and the way he is always telling Jeno to do this or do that and <em> it’ll be fun </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Most of all, he is drawn to the way Jaemin feels like <em> home </em>. As much as he’s uncomfortable right now, Jeno thinks that with Jaemin he feels as if no one is watching.</p><p> </p><p>That night he decidedly doesn’t call Jaemin after work and instead goes straight to bed. He’s been having a bit of trouble sleeping of late but he forces himself to ignore his phone, which sits just within reach on his nightstand. He’ll see him in person in the morning, he thinks. <em> Take a bit more time. </em></p><p> </p><p>But as things turn out, Jaemin's absent still. Jeno shuffles through the day and goes to the studio in the evening and meets with the rest of the dance club. Kun gets everyone started on a new routine before pulling Jeno aside to a corner of the studio. </p><p> </p><p>“How’d you like Yuta’s party?” he asks, in a falsely cheerful manner that immediately sets off warning bells in Jeno’s head. How does Kun know that something went wrong? </p><p> </p><p>“It was fine,” Jeno responds cautiously. “Why do you ask?” </p><p> </p><p>Kun drops the pretense. “Word spreads fast around here,” he says, shrugging. “Heard through the grapevine you and Jaemin both got wasted—wanted to know if you felt okay given it’s your first time.” </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t drink that much,” Jeno says defensively, feeling a flush rise up to his cheeks. “And it’s okay. Thanks for worrying, Kun.” </p><p> </p><p>Kun beams. “That’s what I’m for. I’m like a mom to all these kids.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno feels a sudden pang of longing for his own mother, far away from the city, and suppresses it. “That must be tiring.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, for sure,” he agrees. “But it’s nice, too. I’ve gotten to know everyone really well, and I’m hoping to get to know you better, too.” </p><p> </p><p>For the lack of anything good to say, Jeno just lets Kun carry on while he takes a sip from his water bottle. That turns out to be a mistake, because Kun’s next words make him choke. </p><p> </p><p>“Jaemin likes you a lot.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Jeno splutters. Kun takes one look at his expression and the water all over his face and bursts out laughing. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I didn’t mean it in <em> that </em> way, but <em> damn </em> do you seem like that’s what you want.” Kun cackles as the horror of the situation dawns on Jeno. He’s not ready for this yet. “Anyway, what I <em> meant </em> was that he’s been seeming a lot happier nowadays. I don’t know if he’s told you—”</p><p> </p><p>“About Renjun?” </p><p> </p><p>A shadow flits over Kun’s face briefly. “Yeah, about Renjun. He took it hardest, because he and Renjun were… you know.” He makes a little gesture. “We thought he’d never move on, but since he started bringing you around it’s been different. I don’t know if you did something specifically or it’s just the timing, but it’s hard to deny that you two are close now. Closer than I’ve ever been with him, certainly.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno bites his lower lip. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation, he thinks, but that’s just lying to himself—he wants to have this conversation and he knows it.</p><p> </p><p>“What makes you say that?” he asks, tentatively. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s hard to describe.” Kun puts a finger on his chin. “It’s like a… dynamic the two of you have.” He looks at Jeno intently. “You wanted to hear that, didn’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he whispers. He contemplates whether or not he should tell Kun before deciding <em> fuck it, I’m </em> this <em> obvious already </em>. “I like him. But I don’t know if I should.” </p><p> </p><p>Kun hums thoughtfully. “What’s not to like? Jaemin’s a great guy.” </p><p> </p><p>This is the part where he would say <em> it’s not him, it’s me </em>, but he bites the words back because they sound really, really stupid. But they’re true, he thinks—it really isn’t Jaemin but Jeno’s apprehensions. </p><p> </p><p>He’s never seriously dated someone before and he would hate to fuck it up if he asks Jaemin out and the latter miraculously says yes. That’s one reason. The other reason is, well… Jeno isn’t sure if he’s ready to be a rebound from a deceased partner. He doesn’t know the implications of that and would rather not find out the hard way. </p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Kun’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “give it some time. Think on it a little more and then decide. Maybe he’ll even make the first move, and then you’ll have nothing to worry about, right?” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Before he has much time to think about the decision, Jaemin sends the text inviting Jeno over to the music building. He has a nice, soundproof recording room rented out under his name for the evening and it would be a good place, he thinks, to have a conversation. </p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, Jeno responds. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>LEE JENO</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 6:03 PM  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>Jeno.</b> <em>Sure, how do I get there?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> it’s close to where the dance club meets </em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> like a building over </em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> you’ll see the sign, it’s hard to miss </em></p><p><strong>Me.</strong> <em> i’m in room 301 </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Jeno.</b> <em>OK, I’ll be there in ten</em></p><p> </p><p>Jaemin clicks his phone shut and turns to his work. After months of labouring over it between classes and after, on weekends and holidays, Jaemin’s finally nearing the end of his first musical project—a little collection of songs he’ll call <em> 1 </em>, he thinks. All that’s left to do is to record the final versions, and then release them. </p><p> </p><p><em> Release </em> . The prospect both scares and thrills him. He wonders if that’s how he’d feel if he chose to pursue music going into post-secondary, but he didn’t have the courage to, then. He didn’t have the courage to choose something unconventional and discouraged by his parents and now he has to resort to cobbling his music together in his spare time with the help of his roommate, who is doing what he <em> wants </em> to do. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” A voice startles him out of his thoughts. He would have jumped out of his skin if not for just <em> how </em> familiar the voice is. “Sorry, am I disturbing you?” </p><p> </p><p>“No, no.” Jaemin waves a hand dismissively, attempting to still his pounding heartbeat. “I asked you to come here, after all.” </p><p> </p><p>With a self-effacing air about him Jeno takes a seat next to him in a swivelling stool. He is wearing the same torn jeans he wore to the party and a nice white button-down shirt—a very clean, natural look. There is effort there, Jaemin thinks, then questions why he thinks that at all. </p><p> </p><p>“You never really talk about your music,” Jeno says, breaking the silence. “Since when have you been making it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Since last semester,” he replies. There is an awkward distance between them that didn’t exist before, and not for the first time Jaemin thinks he’s fucked up in taking Jeno to the party, and telling him about Renjun. “I wanted to show someone first, I guess. Someone other than Donghyuck.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno nods, ever understanding. “I’d love to see it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin hits play. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> 𝅘𝅥𝅮 Who barged into my life </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And left?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s late and raining when they leave the studio. They hadn’t really talked all that much, like Jeno had expected, but he’s content with how he spent the last three hours. Jaemin had sat there quietly, humming to himself occasionally as he played with sound mixing and whatever else he needed to do to put a song together. Jeno finished an entire assignment between listening to Jaemin’s songs and sneaking looks at him while he worked. </p><p> </p><p>It was comfortable, he thinks—that’s the best way to describe it. In spite of their differences, Jeno feels <em> comfortable </em> around Jaemin, perhaps more so than he does with anyone else. Sure, they’ve had their share of awkward moments, of unspoken things that hang thickly in the air, but even so Jeno has never met someone who makes him feel so close to home despite being a thousand miles away from it. </p><p> </p><p>Like he does now.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s raining a lot,” Jaemin says, frowning as they stand together under the short awning. “Damn, I parked in Lot Two.” </p><p> </p><p>“We can run,” Jeno offers reluctantly. It’s positively pouring—being slightly faster will likely do very little for their hair and clothes. “Or wait it out.” </p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon,” Jaemin says, with a strangely grim finality to his words. “You know what, I’ll run and then come here to pick you up.” He dumps his bag in Jeno’s arms. “I wouldn’t want this stuff to get soaked.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” Jeno protests. “I’ll just go with you, you don’t need—”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin cuts him off with, “Better one person gets wet than two. Just hang tight!” </p><p> </p><p>With that, he sprints off into the rain. Instantly, Jeno can see his normally voluminous hair flatten against his scalp and the water from the ground soak into his Converse and his jeans as he splashes away. He feels guilty but also so grateful his chest hurts. </p><p> </p><p>Lot 2 is cheaper than the lots closer to the studio, but quite a bit farther away, so by the time Jeno sees Jaemin’s car pull up by the curb he’s shivering from standing outside for so long. He dashes out from beneath the awning and gets into the passenger seat quickly enough to avoid being soaked. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin, on the other hand, is practically sitting in a puddle. His jacket is water-resistant, which is a small blessing, but Jeno can tell that he must be very uncomfortable right now; his jeans are a darker shade of blue and his hair is slicked back with water and as much as Jeno should feel guilty about being the cause of his misfortune his mind is <em> blank </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeno?” Jaemin asks him, and it’s only then that he realizes that he had been staring, open-mouthed. “You good?” </p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah,” he says, feeling a rush of heat in his face and neck and hoping the dimness covers it up. “Are you? You had to go out in the rain, and you’ve just gotten better, too…” </p><p> </p><p>As if on cue, Jaemin sneezes, then laughs. “I’ll be fine,” he says. “Now, let’s get you home.” </p><p> </p><p>They drive as quickly as Jaemin dares through the rain, which is not very quickly at all. The sky might as well be pouring buckets over the car. Jeno apologizes profusely for how far away he lives from campus, but Jaemin waves all his attempts down. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t, I called you over to the studio anyway,” Jaemin says dismissively. He pulls up to the curb. “Is this the one?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno squints out the window, through the darkness and water. “Yeah.” He glances back at Jaemin, and before he can even think <em> here goes </em> the words come out of his mouth: “You know, do you just wanna stay here tonight? I don’t think you should drive back in this kind of weather.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin studies him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “This isn't so bad. I’ll drive slowly.” </p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” Jeno stifles the slight disappointment. </p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t want to impose.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeno shakes his head quickly. “I’m sure the others won’t mind. We’ve got plenty of space.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin seems to contemplate that briefly. In the dark, his expression is difficult to read. Then, he reaches forward and pulls the key out of the ignition. “Okay, then. I appreciate it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno breaks into a smile, both relieved but also infinitely more nervous now that his offer has been accepted. Nevertheless, he takes the lead as he and Jaemin get out of the car and sprint for the apartment building. </p><p> </p><p>When they reach Joohyun’s apartment and Jeno unlocks the door, they almost run headlong into Jaehyun, who is putting on a raincoat by the front door. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Jeno splutters, taking a step back and almost bumping into Jaemin. “Why are you going out so late?” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun laughs sarcastically and puts his hands on his hips. “Why do you think?” </p><p> </p><p>Not for the first time that day, guilt washes over Jeno like a wave. “Did you call?” </p><p> </p><p>“Three times.” Jaehyun sighs. “I thought something happened, with the weather like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Jeno apologizes again. “My phone was off.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t say anything more and instead turns to Jaemin. “Thanks for driving Jeno.” He eyes his wet clothing. “I’m guessing you were the one to get the car.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin laughs good-naturedly in agreement. “Jeno invited me over because of the rain. I’m sorry if it’s a bit much…”  </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Jaehyun waves a hand. He makes a sweeping gesture over his head, as if measuring how tall he is. “We’re about the same height, so I can find you a change of clothes. Jeno, show him where the bathroom is so he can take a shower or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeno nods mechanically and looks from Jaehyun to Jaemin, Jaemin to Jaehyun, and back again. He feels indebted to one and and a burden to the other and the courage he’d been building up on the ride back seems to have evaporated into nothing. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Jaehyun’s clothes are so comfortable that Jaemin’s tempted to ask if he can keep them. Except that would be weird as fuck. But there’s something about wearing the same clothes as an extremely attractive man that is very appealing and Jaemin stands in front of the bathroom mirror for a little longer than usual, trying to admire himself through the thin layer of condensation on the glass. </p><p> </p><p>When he steps out of the bathroom he finds Jeno one room over, tucking sheets under the corners of a small futon set up on the floor next to the bed. “You didn’t need to,” he says, for the lack of anything better to say. “I could’ve just slept on the floor.” </p><p> </p><p>“And you could also have driven home in the rain.” As if on cue, thunder claps so loudly that the room seems to tremble. “Plus, I haven’t thanked you for driving me yet.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin snorts. “Last I checked, you thanked me plenty of times. I think the person we both need to thank is Jaehyun. Me, for this fine shirt. You, because he didn’t yell at you. If it were Donghyuck worrying about me I’d have hell from him.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno laughs, but there’s an air of nervousness about him, for reasons Jaemin can’t quite place. “Well, really, we <em> all </em> need to thank Joohyun. For letting us live here.” </p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough.” Jaemin sits down on the ready-made bed, bouncing a couple of times on the futon as if testing its comfort. It would be vastly more comfortable than the floor, at least. </p><p> </p><p>An awkward silence has fallen over them, and not for the first time that night; Jeno seems strangely preoccupied with tidying his own bed and it hits Jaemin, suddenly, that the nervousness and awkwardness are because of <em> him </em> . Jeno doesn’t know how to act around him or in the situation and he, well, <em> he </em> has an answer for anything that might come. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno gets up to fetch him a blanket and a pillow. Jaemin takes the items from him and spreads them out on the futon, but it really feels too early to be going to bed. But in the past few months he’s learned that there are, in fact, people who get ready to sleep by eleven and Jeno is one of them. And since it’s his room they’re sleeping in, Jaemin thinks that he should just suck it up for one night and do the same. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno turns out the main light in favour of a lamp that glows warm yellow. Jaemin lies down on the futon and Jeno climbs into bed. He hasn’t had a sleepover like this since high school, and even then the sleepovers weren’t quite so tame. But there’s a certain intrinsic tameness to Jeno that Jaemin wouldn’t trade for the world. It’s what draws Jaemin to him, he thinks—a sort of impeccable stability that Jeno himself seems completely unaware of. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Jeno asks. He looks over the edge of the bed and they make eye contact, the deep brown in Jeno’s eyes seemingly glowing in the soft lighting.  </p><p> </p><p>“You look like you’ve got a lot going on in there.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I was just zoning out.” It wouldn’t do, after all, to tell Jeno that he was thinking about <em> him </em>. “What do you think of my music?” Jaemin changes the subject nonchalantly, as if the answer doesn’t mean multitudes to him. </p><p> </p><p>“I really liked it,” Jeno responds earnestly. He’s still holding his gaze. “The song you were working on today, called ‘No Exceptions,’ was it? That one’s my favourite.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin kind of likes the sound of the title on Jeno’s tongue better than he did his own.<br/>
“Yeah,” he says. “Why did you like it best?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno looks away. “I think the story is lovely,” he says, a little tentatively. </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards. “You like sad stories, huh?” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” Jeno shifts. “It’s kind of bittersweet, I guess. There’s something really resonant about it.” Then, he buries his face in his blanket. “God, I’m spending too much time with Jaehyun. I’m not normally sentimental. At all.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s true.” Jaemin laughs. “You never struck me as the type.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno pokes his head back out. “You know, you didn’t either. But your songs seem to say otherwise.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin trains his gaze on the ceiling. “I think people are all a lot more than they seem.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s… reasonable.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin doesn’t know what to say in response so he opts to stay silent. Normally, their silence is comfortable, like earlier in the studio or when they study together, but tonight it’s almost suffocating. He prays to any god that would listen for Jeno to continue on the conversation because he is out of acceptable things to say. </p><p> </p><p>And when Jeno <em> does </em> keep talking, it’s a little bit more than he bargained for. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’m really glad to have met you,” he says. His voice quavers slightly and, for some reason, it sends a tingling of anticipation down Jaemin’s spine. </p><p> </p><p>“Even after the party?”</p><p> </p><p>He nods against his pillow. “Even after the party.” A pause. “To be honest, I enjoyed most of it. Up until the part we were drunk as hell. And afterwards, well, I was hungover and in shock. Shocked that I could enjoy something like that, I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s good to hear.” Jaemin’s response seems lacking, even to him, so he adds, “I’m glad to have met you, too. You know, I didn’t have any friends in econ and probably wouldn’t have made any.” </p><p> </p><p>He is being sincere. If not for Jeno’s unexpected friendship it was very likely that Jaemin would have sat alone for the rest of the semester—most of the class knew of his reputation, after all. Jeno, being a transfer, did not. </p><p> </p><p>“You really did help me make friends and adjust,” Jeno goes on. There is some kind of tension and conviction building up in his voice, as if he is prefacing something important. Jaemin has an idea what it may be and he holds his breath waiting for his next words. “Well, you and Jaehyun. But there’s something I want to tell you. Just… let me know what you think, I guess.” </p><p> </p><p><em> This is it. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“I like you.” </p><p> </p><p>The words are firmer than Jaemin expected, nothing like the awkwardness he had been prepared for. But it doesn’t change his response nor the words he had chosen carefully ahead of time. </p><p> </p><p>“If you mean you’re interested in being <em> more </em> than friends, I’m afraid I can’t take you up on that.” His words are a little bit stilted, as is the case with anything he rehearses, but they’ll do. He forces himself to make eye contact with Jeno, who seems neither surprised nor disappointed. Only… resigned. He had foreseen this possibility just as clearly. “Not at the moment, anyway.” </p><p> </p><p>“I understand,” Jeno says softly. He musters a smile and when his eyes crinkle they do so in a way that is impossibly melancholic. “I’m sorry for telling you. I think I just needed to get it off my chest.” </p><p> </p><p>Something inside Jaemin is aching to correct himself, to tell Jeno that <em> no, I like you too, but I can’t do this to you when I’m not over Renjun </em>. But he doesn’t say anything. Something tells him that Jeno knows—that he understands at the very least that he has wagered on timing and lost. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeno should have known better than to confess during a sleepover, because they both spend the rest of the night awake. He can tell by how many times Jaemin turns over on the futon, and he’s sure Jaemin also knows based on how many times he’s done the same on the bed. </p><p> </p><p>But he <em> does </em> feel lighter than he has in days. Or even weeks. The mounting anticipation he had kept bottled up inside him has been released in three words, and as much as they were rejected there is something satisfying about the closure. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno would be lying if he says he isn’t disappointed with the outcome, but it is not the worst case scenario—Jaemin said <em> not at the moment </em> , not <em> no </em>. </p><p> </p><p>So there is hope, or some semblance of it. He might be like a drowning man grasping at straws, but he has not drowned. </p><p> </p><p>At some point in the early morning, he finally drifts off, only to be awakened shortly afterwards by someone pressing the doorbell several times. He turns over with a grunt, only to see over the edge of his bed Jaemin propping himself up on one elbow, eyes squinted against the shafts of sunlight that peeked through the blinds. His hair is artistically tousled and the sun makes his skin glow. Not unexpectedly, Jeno forgets to breathe momentarily.</p><p> </p><p>“‘Morning,” he says. Outside, he can hear Jaehyun’s voice welcome Taeyong into the apartment. It’s only then that he glances at the clock and realizes that it’s ten. </p><p> </p><p>“‘Morning,” Jaemin replies. For a moment, it’s almost as if nothing happened the night before but then it hits Jeno as he sits up. “This is a nice mattress.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno nods, a little hollowly. “Isn’t it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Jaemin yawns and stretches. Then, he turns his head slightly to look at Jeno out of the corner of his eye; the movement is somehow a perfect segue into his next words. “About last night… I hope it won’t impact the arrangements we already have?” </p><p> </p><p>Sirens had already been drowning out his thoughts from the second Jaemin said <em> last night </em> , but he nods. “We can still hang out and everything, if that’s what you mean. I’m not going to avoid you just because of… <em> this </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Jaemin breathes a sigh of relief that resonates so strongly with Jeno that he almost does the same. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For not giving you a firm answer.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.” Jeno doesn’t know if he fears or prefers knowing <em> for sure </em>. “Take as long as you need.” </p><p> </p><p>He wants to add <em> I’ll wait, </em> but even he knows that it’s an unrealistic thing to say.</p><p> </p><p>Later, Jeno and Jaemin grab brunch together at the Neocity Cafe. Doyoung is on shift and they make small talk. If Doyoung knows anything about the two of them, he doesn’t say anything. </p><p> </p><p>Jeno drinks his coffee with one cream and one sugar and Jaemin asks for more espresso in his black as is his custom. They get pancakes and hashbrowns and things Jeno normally wouldn’t splurge on because he can just make them at home. They’re silent for a while. Then they talk, and it’s like nothing happened the night before and they’re just two friends catching up despite seeing one another daily. </p><p> </p><p>When Jaemin makes a snide remark about a classmate they both despise, Jeno laughs so hard that the surmising eyes on him are nothing. The world seems to narrow until only the two of them remain, and it is then that he realizes that he<em> will </em> wait. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> 𝅘𝅥𝅮  You’re the one I’m waiting for </em>. </p><p> </p><p>It feels like only yesterday that a smiling boy with eyes that smiled too sat down next to him in a crowded lecture hall and asked him for notes. In reality, it was many yesterdays ago, and today Jaemin sits with Jeno under a tree in the middle of the green space on campus, passing a bubble tea back and forth between the two of them. </p><p> </p><p>Three months ago that smiling boy had told him that he liked him. In a way that was more than that of simply friends. Three months later, Jaemin finally thinks it might be time to take him up on it. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Jeno,” he says. “I think I’ll release my music soon.” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno sucks up several tapioca pearls from the drink, chews, then swallows, before nodding earnestly. “That’s good. You should. You also haven’t shown me anything since last semester ended.” </p><p> </p><p>They don’t have classes together anymore, but they still find themselves seeking out one another’s company on a near-daily basis. The only days they don’t see each other, at this point, are the days Jaemin labors away in the studio on his songs, either alone or with Donghyuck’s assistance. </p><p> </p><p>“Here, I’ll let you listen to the final versions before anyone else gets to.” Jaemin smiles, then fishes his headphones and cell phone out of his pocket. The files are downloaded. He plugs the earbuds in and gives the right one to Jeno, putting the left one in his own ear. Then, he hits play. </p><p> </p><p>He watches Jeno carefully as he listens, studies every twitch of his features and the way he nods slightly to the music. He sees the corners of his mouth lift in the most reassuring smile he has ever seen when <em> No Exceptions </em>reaches the chorus and his heart lifts with it when Jeno says, “It’s beautiful.” </p><p> </p><p>Not as beautiful as the way Jaemin feels impossibly comfortable in the shade, connected to Jeno by a pair of headphones thrumming with his creation, their fingers just barely touching in the grass. Not as beautiful as the realization he comes to that the only shadow between them is the shadow of the tree under which they sit, and not the shadow of Jaemin’s regrets, Jaemin’s longing, Jaemin’s grief. </p><p> </p><p>There is something impossibly beautiful in the way Jeno smiles. He’s known this all along, yet for some reason it’s taken him until now to truly notice. </p><p> </p><p><em> 𝅘𝅥𝅮 Night falls slowly </em>.</p><p> </p><p>And the day takes its time coming, but make no mistake, it <em> does </em> come. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeno.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hold my hand.” </p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the 'little collection of songs' that jaemin was working on is actually an album from cai xukun, the idol that the original work featured! go check him out, i love him</p><p>also, if you're wondering why jeno had a voice pack in the first place, i didn't address it but someone probably just thought he had a nice voice for it and jeno thought that it would give him some more money for his grandma's medical bills</p><p>leave a comment or kudos if you have some time :)</p><p> </p><p> <a href="https://twitter.com/ramenree1">twitter</a><br/><a href="https://curiouscat.me/ramenree">curious cat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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